


bridge over troubled water

by cannolireflection



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1867, AU, Captain louis, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Travel, but it's not a supernatural fic, he comes back as a ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannolireflection/pseuds/cannolireflection
Summary: Based on the idea of 20,000 leagues under the sea, but with the plot of the christmas carol and some other lil twists. Slow burn baby.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 1





	bridge over troubled water

**Author's Note:**

> I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory. -Jules Verne

An adolescent child very rarely takes an interest in the wonders of life, too busy living theirs. It might have been the loss of his home, which exploded in 1847 due to storing old gunpowder. His father had fought in wars, was forced to by HIS father. So perhaps that's the reason that the professor was so attached to living things. Because the one that was his was ripped away during the fire. The professor was five.

The professor’s father had left very few records of himself. What was known of the parental figure was limited to five things, five poems, and that’s likely why the professor felt the need to write, write, write.

His mother had died of cholera almost right after he finished breast feeding. He never breast fed again.

If you know what I mean. 

His sister was separated from him. While she was relocated to a mysterious city in Belgium and never heard from again, he spent his remaining childhood years on the Isle of Wight in an orphanage. It was different from the mainland. The building he stayed in was on the side of the island facing France. It was a simple two story structure; part wood, part brick. It had been painted in 1839, but not well, so now the outside was a natural brick color. 

The owners of the orphanage, Elton and Sally John, had known his mother when she was alive. They got married 1845 and were the most caring people he would ever meet. They alternated attending weeks in the building so were hardly ever there at the same time, except for holidays or birthdays. For the rest of the island it was like a memory game, trying not to forget whose week it was.

There was also a nurse and a fiddler who visited often, Tam and David, friends of Elton and Sally and almost as loved by the kids as them.

When the older children visited, ones that had moved out after being fortunately graced by kindness, Sally went by Ms. Ride, her maiden name. The professor (before he was a professor of course) once asked her what HIS maiden name was. 

“You don’t have one Pumpkin, but if you want we can make one up,” she said, placing a hot saucer in front of him. 

For the second Christmas he spent in the orphanage she had heated a pot of milk she had gotten from the single cow.

She turned around to grab another saucer for herself, sitting down on the rickety chair beside him. The rest of the children were scattered in various other rooms and places so it was only the two of them.

“What would you like your maiden name to be?”

“The same as your now-name.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want it to be…” He bit his lip. “I want it to be like you’re my mommy. Because I miss mine. I want everyone here to be my family. Will you be my family?”

“Of course! We’ll be a great family.”

“Will you and Elton be my mom and dad?”

Sally paused before addressing his question. “Hmm. How would you feel if instead Tam, David, and Elton and I were all your parents?”

“Like two times as much love? That would be fun.” He whispered tentatively, feet dangling far from the ground.

“Baby listen, I know you really miss Anne. I miss her too. But I promise that we’ll do our best to love you HALF as much.” She tucked her thumb under the child’s eye sockets to wipe away the innocent tears there. 

He looked up again, second guessing second guessing himself. “I think mom would have liked you being my new mom.”

Sally beamed. “Do you want to hear a story about us when we were your age?”

When Harry nodded enthusiastically, she continued.

“During the summer we would run to this field hidden in the woods, our special spot, away from everyone else. When we were fifteen, this rabbit had come, completely white but a brown spot on the right side. We named her Gemma. Your sister was named after that rabbit actually. And then in the same field we saw the rabbit again a year later! The same exact one, it came back for us.” 

“Will mommy come back for us?”

“Oh baby…”

So yes. Sally was always kind to him. But Elton always had his back too. 

Years later now, when Harry was eleven and had grown accustomed to the orphanage, he poked his head into Elton and Sally’s room. It was Elton’s week and he was folding an aged shirt of his. Sleeve, over, sleeve, over, fold in half. 

One of Sally’s dresses was draped over the vanity’s stool, a crimson pelisse.

“Hey dad, is this mom’s?” 

Elton tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, looks like it’s Sally’s.”

“Can I try it on? I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“I don’t think she will either. You really want to?”

“So much.”

Elton walked over to the vanity, picking up the dress and depositing it in Harry’s outstretched arms.

“You won’t be able to pull it off.” The boy’s grin vanished immediately but soon returned.

“Better than me,” Elton finished, reaching into the wardrobe and pulling out a small crinoline and yellow gown.

Harry laid the pelisse on the bed and took off his school shirt and pants. He then grabbed the hem and jumped headfirst into the dress, wriggling around for a while on the mattress, careful not to rip the fabric, trying to find the sleeves. Elton eventually spun him over, gently pulling his arms through the right holes. Harry sat up to look at the older man before down at himself.

He drowned in the dress, scoop neck revealing his whole collarbone and shoulders. Elton offered a hand so he wouldn’t trip on the dragging fabric walking over to the mirror.

Harry shut his eyes tight before he could look.

“Open your eyes.”

Harry opened his eyes. And he didn’t regret it at all. In the mirror the dijon yellow framed the crimson-clad child. 

“Care for a dance with me?” Elton said, looking down at the small brown haired child.

“I wouldn’t mind”

So they swayed hand in hand to absolutely no music at all.

And yeah, the dress was much too big for Harry, but the two figures really couldn’t have cared less.

~~~~~

The professor moved out at 17 to attend higher schooling and become his dream. His childhood notes on the flora and fauna of the Isle of Wight were compiled into a short book after returning from his first ever travel, and he became known there. 

A few years later and his writing is generally known in England, but no farther than that. 

What WAS known farther than that was the rumor of a dangerous monster roaming the deep. When journalists asked the professor what he thought about it he shut them up faster than his house had burned down. His assistant and artist, Mr. Malik, had spent the day questioning local merchants about what they had heard or seen.

The two were planning on travelling to investigate this monster that had the world in its grip. Was it a strange form of whale, was it a narwhal? Maybe a dinosaur? 

The professor spent the day alone in his makeshift office, arranging all the papers of his latest collaborative book to be published. His foot was currently tapping to the beat of a symphony he couldn’t recall the name of, placing the stylus in the pot of ink for the last time.

“Professor Styles, it’s sixteen forty-five. Niall will be waiting.”

“Thank you Zayn. Please, lead the way.”

Zayn was required by contract to address the professor by such formal language when working. However, the boat voyage would not be counted as work. He would be paid by the captain, not the company Niall worked for. 

They made their way downhill to where the silhouette of the ship already stood, waving cream colored flags, at one point in their life fresh white cotton. If Harry squinted he could imagine them as marble walls.

The ship itself was fine oak, carved and smoothed, with canons through the sides. The sky blended into the sea’s horizon, and their combined blue made the size of the ship seem like a newborn child.

Nonetheless Harry and Zayn boarded it, clinging to the edge of their jackets to keep out the last-day-of-November chill that ruffled their hair. 

Harry Styles met Zayn Malik on an expedition to India at the beginning of 1862. The latter had also been on a business trip and they bonded quite nicely. They went back to Britain together where Harry lived and produced many nature works while staying out of politics and gossip. By the time a year had passed and they were 21 and 22 respectively (at the end of January 1863), the duo had one work of scientific illustrated writing published and another in progress. Presently they had five, one each year since.

Earlier this year Niall Horan had asked them both to accompany him to his home in Japan and study starfish for a couple months, wondering if they wanted a chance to observe sea animals after the intense Malaysian bird research of 1865. Said research was compiled into a book that did very well. Most of Britain was disappointed the United States hadn’t torn themselves apart with the Civil War and looked to reading to focus on something else.

The year before they’d spent in Norway freezing their asses off, watching the flowers adapt to the snow better than they could. Despite this, it was an unspoken rule that 1864 was their favorite year spent together. The hours in the early morning by the fire could account for their ability to read each other’s expressions like a pamphlet.

“Is that wood heavy?”

“Well I wood tell you but I don’t want to.” Zayn smirked and dropped said wood into the fireplace to keep the fire going. The tiny cabin was straight out an ad for Lincoln logs.

“Isn’t making stupid jokes my job?”

“Well I wanted to try,” Zayn hummed as he used the poker to rearrange the flames, then sit back on his heels.

Harry poured them each a glass of cheap red wine, which they both downed before he poured another. And one more.

Zayn pushed Harry over. 

“What was that for!”

“Tell me who you are.”

“You know where I grew up and where I went to university.”

“I didn’t ask where you’ve been. I asked who you are.”

Zayn threw his head back and drunkenly laughed. Harry stayed silent though. Harry was a sleepy drunk.

“Sure, I’ll tell you who I am.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m… not like other guys. I’m quirky like that,” he yawned.

“Do tell me more,” Zayn giggled.

“Not like other guys. Like other guys. Love other guys.”

“Love other guys.”

The conversation definitely required an awkward sober explanation, but for now it was just that. A conversation.

~~~~~

So. They accepted Niall’s offer and explored the wonders of echinoderms in the clear tide pools and murky shallows of Niigata for a while.

Now that this mysterious havoc-wreaking monster was on the loose they decided to travel with the other men trying to capture or kill it.

Niall was on the boat already, sporting his signature maroon jumper, brown shoes, brown pants whipping his shins because of the sea breeze. The three greeted each other as they headed below the deck to place their sacks by the thin cots that were definitely going to supply infinite back pains.

“Hey mates. What’s got you looking like you just killed an Asterias amurensis?”

Harry smiled down at him. “Those are pretty.”

“No one says that?”

“I’m just confused about the nature of this voyage. What happens if we do find this narwhal, this atrocity?” Harry asked, fixing his gaze on Niall’s little nose. “Won’t it attempt to attack us just like any other ship?”

“Not if we’re at open sea. Then it will just damage the hull. It’s only been known to destroy entire ships that have been docked. Just swims under it and smashes a large hole that all the products leak through. No ones ever been on the ship when it’s happened though, so that’s lucky. Maybe the narwhal is kind and intelligent.”

“Why are you so sure it’s a narwhal?” Zayn says, hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m not. Just hopin’ it is cause I’ve heard of this wild animal but never seen one in real life.”

“If you wanted to see a wild animal just watch Harry when I tell him you’re here to translate the paper.”

“If you wanted to see a wild animal just watch Zayn when I ask him to read my new page of notes, and I think that’s more embarrassing.” 

Niall was doubled over, roaring with laughter, even more than usual. Laughing so hard he was almost crying. 

He was crying.

“Niall? It’s not that funny-” Harry started and both him and Zayn sat beside him on his rickety cot.

“Leave please.” He was never this commanding. There isn’t a need to boss anyone around when you study starfish in the nineteenth century. 

Then again it is the nineteenth century, so there is a need conjured by society to hide your feelings if you’re a man. 

So Harry and Zayn leave, because they aren’t accustomed to helping anyway else, and walk up the stairs to stand on the bow of the ship to watch the sun set. The colors intrigued Zayn, and he’d probably paint it if he could, though he’d never painted anything that wasn’t an animal or plant that Harry was studying. Besides, those were usually black and white charcoal sketches so they could be printed in books. The array of shades included in those matched the shades the two wore.

Sailors were beginning to untie the ropes. At seventeen thirty they departed, away from the coast. Everyone aboard was either watching the ripples of the water or the dock retreat from their view. 

In fifteen minutes they could no longer see the dock. They were headed East to search the Pacific ocean first. Harry and Zayn stood for a long time up on deck just to associate the swaying of the ground beneath their feet to the feeling of the waves. 

Eventually they walk down the stairs when Zayn yawns loudly. Niall is fast asleep, one arm dropping off the edge of the cot, other bent by his face, which was buried in the pillow, making it look like it was suffocating him. 

It was one large room the twenty people aboard shared- their three beds were located in the corner.

Harry sat, rubbing his arms and laying down. The boat gently rocked side to side, whispering the secrets of the fish. He really wanted to know the secrets of the fish. 

~~~~~

Every single day was the same. They could go nowhere, and were limited to what little entertainment they had with them. Dates had no meaning, and the schedule was completely irregular. Sound familiar? 

Harry could read the entire encyclopedia at least once a week.

Which he did.

Niall and Zayn played cards. Usually double solitaire, sometimes blackjack. Poker when Harry played. Unfortunately they lost the seven of clubs when a particularly big wave rocked the ship in the Philippine waters and the card slid into a crack in the wood.

It was more a final acception of Niall than anything else, merging into a complete trio. Norway morning fires 2.0. 

They made a stop in Indonesia for Christmas eve after sailing through the Pacific. They would still sleep on the boat, but the captain thought it might be a good idea to stop and ground themselves.

Zayn nearly broke his ankle trying to walk on the dry land.

They separated and bought gifts for each other. Pastry-like things they kept in small pouches. Not much, but between durian, mangosteen, and maja, they were flavorful enough for an attempt at a festive feast the next day.

Harry wandered around, relishing in the fact that the earth beneath his feet was firm. He paused at one point, sparkling green eyes fixed on the stars above. Cetus kind of looked like the monster they were chasing. He’d never felt more connected to secrets of the universe. 

Except the universe really seemed to hate Harry, because “rainy season” really proved its name as drops began to cascade down his back. He under the trees for temporary safety. Later they would droop with liquid, but for the time being were only gathering their ammunition, the water collecting in each dent of a leaf.

He didn’t want to return to the boat already, was frankly sick of it and exhausted. If he got soaked he had three other changes of clothes. It might be good to rinse this outfit anyway. So he flutters through the small Rainbow Gum Eucalyptus grove, where the dirt is transforming into mud. The trunks of the trees were colorful and in a way reminded Harry of himself, since he was a rainbow.

He ran his fingers across the bark, softly humming. Nothing philosophical ran through his mind like it usually did. The trees blotted out his thoughts, telling him “Look at me! I’m beautiful!” 

He circled one with notably bright chromatism. He walked a figure eight around two. He did a zigzag. He took out a knife and peeled a sliver of bark off and tasted it. He shamelessly made out with a particularly short one, the whole time waiting for his pocket watch to tell him it was time to go back.

Occasional drops of rain leaked through the canopy already, making his hair frizzy. 

Soon it was four minutes to twenty one, so he took off skipping in the direction of the dock, mangosteen pastry bag in hand. Life was simple. Uninteresting, maybe, but simple.

And Christmas day was okay, raising the crew’s spirits. But you know that red spot on Jupiter? (Well Harry doesn’t, it wasn’t common knowledge until the late 1870s).

That celestial blood stain doesn’t matter to them- it’s just a random saucy splotch.

But far away it’s a raging storm. To them, Christmas 1866 was just another rise of the sun- far away Christmas 1866 was a raging storm too.

**Author's Note:**

> If someone actually likes this I'll write another chapter


End file.
